Will blinked. An enchanted door. Of course. Elaine had a way of flitting between the everyday and the uncanny in a way that unbalanced him.
He followed her bemusedly to the kitchen table, hesitating just a moment before transferring a fruit tart to his plate. (His mind was briefly waylaid by thoughts of poisoned apples and houses made of sweets and Tom Thumb cooked into a Christmas pudding. Which was unwarranted, surely. Marian and John had both eaten with Elaine plenty of times and never been the worse for it.)
"Right, your cottage where Marian stayed that time," he said, seizing onto the one part of that explanation he was confident he understood. "Erm. Alright, what's it involve, then? I've never... I don't really know a thing about enchantments." He didn't think he objected to it, if that was all it was about, and he could hardly stop her from ensorcelling any bit of furniture she chose, but it was still unnerving.